


collect first, think later

by thefudge



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fucked Up, Pseudo-Incest, i mean we dont know for sure but come on they are related, trash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2016-01-05
Packaged: 2018-05-07 10:15:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5453009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefudge/pseuds/thefudge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kylo/Rey, interrogation scene.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

His mind is so loud. It takes her by surprise, because she would have pictured nothing but ice beneath that rigid exterior, but he’s a raging fire. 

She doesn’t know what she’s searching for. She’s wading through painful memories and tearing doubts. He’s a tormented soul, this one. She would roll her eyes at him, except she’s on a mission. She feels she’s close, whatever his secrets may be. It hurts, reaching out to his innermost self. She’s never done this before, never knew she  _could,_  and though she should stop and question this newfound ability, she does what any scavenger would do; collect first, think later. 

The effort takes its toll on her. She grits her teeth so hard, she has to close her eyes. The sweat running down her face is growing cold. 

Finally, in that maelstrom and chaos, she clings to a red opening. A dark, heavy mask. Battered by war. Not Kylo’s. No, it belongs to an old hero - perhaps…not a hero. Inside, she sees Ren trying desperately to cling to it, to embrace it and wear it. But it doesn’t fit, no matter how hard he tries. 

She is reminded of her hunts, when she gets stupidly stubborn and wants to get inside the narrowest places, explore the most dangerous heights. She almost understands him, despite the fact that she has never wanted to put on a mask.

_Haven’t you?_

She opens her eyes.

Maybe she shouldn’t have bothered. Turns out, Kylo Ren is an open book. He is staring at her with _blatant_  disregard for his secret order, he is giving her everything just by looking at her. How can he be so menacing one moment and so pitiful the next? Pitiful may not be right word. But it’s jarring how unstable he seems, alternating from one mood to the next. It could be a well-crafted trick. Get her to lower her guard. She is not sure with him. He’s not stupid, but he isn’t diabolical either. She’s met plenty of wretched scum in her life, yet he seems to be of a different cut. He could be playing her, he could be in earnest.

_It doesn’t matter. I know your secret._

She enjoys the words falling out of her mouth. She shouldn’t, but she does.

“And you’re afraid…so very afraid, that you will never be as ruthless as Darth Vader. That you don’t have it in you.”

She savors the horror-struck expression on his face. He looks younger every time his jaw flinches. And his boyish shoulder-length hair, those dark, warm eyes, they really clash with whatever he wishes to inspire - 

Her next thoughts are swept aside when she is pushed forward into that horrid contraption and her head hits hard metal. 

She feels his temper charging savagely, his dark presence pushing against her own, and despite her best efforts, she is not ready for the onslaught. It’s strange, but he guides himself  _by_  feelings. He lets his emotions run loose, instead of forsaking them. 

He is inches away from her. She can count two freckles on his nose. Why is he so stubbornly human? A raging boy - cruel and vulnerable, at the same time. She regrets taunting him about his mask. He should put it back, so she wouldn’t see this open face. 

“What do you know about that?” he asks, almost gently. 

Rey breathes into his face. “Nothing. Just what I saw in your head.”

“You…are gifted with the Force?” 

“No. But I’m stronger than you. And I will never tell you anything.”

He raises his hand to her face. She flinches, cursing herself. 

His thumb swipes at the corner of her mouth, where a tiny sliver of blood trails down her chin. He wipes it clean. He looks at his own gloved fingers, stares fixedly at the red trail. 

“You just have,” he murmurs with infinite sadness and steps away from her. 

Rey wants to shout back, ask him what he’s talking about, but he’s already walking further away from her. She will not call him back. She has that much pride. But she knows he will return. 


	2. Chapter 2

Rey knows about flying.

She knows the rudimentary, mechanic side. She has absorbed as much knowledge as possible throughout the years, watching pilots like a hawk, hoping an engineer will take her under their wing. She's learned the ropes, so to speak. She can't be fazed by an ARC-170 Starfighter, or a TIE Fighter. The Millennium Falcon is a _breeze_. A challenging breeze, but all the same.

So it's strange when her blood starts thrumming in her veins. Because she's flown before, but it's nothing like this.

She opens her eyes an inch. She is floating. That would be a better term for it. No ground beneath her feet, no refuge in gravity. Her body is being carried gently into an unknown abyss. There is nothing separating her body from the endless cosmos. No ship, no shields.

Gradually, she gains more awareness. 

She is not floating, after all. 

Someone is carrying her.

Rey has never been carried before. She does not remember being held lovingly by a mother or father. They left when she was too young to preserve such precious memories. And safe to say, no man or woman has decided she was worth embracing. 

She is new to this feeling. Strong arms circling her waist, holding her to his chest. It's a he, she can tell. Not just by the hardness of his front, but by a strange, wintry smell. She thinks she's smelled it before. 

She can't help it; wherever she is, _whoever_ is carrying her, she's grateful.

A respite from the loneliness. The dark night won't be so dark anymore.

She leans her head into him, nestles to his chest. A childish gesture, perhaps, but she's never had time for childhood. She hopes it's Han Solo. He would make a good father.

* * *

 The next time she opens her eyes, she sees the ceiling moving. She's still in the arms of her benefactor, but she's inside, away from the battle.

 One of his hands cradles her head. She can look up at him now, can finally have a good look at him.

She frowns.

She doesn't know him at all. His features are long and lean, his face is drawn, but his eyes are not unkind. Most of all, he's got a wild mane of dark hair that draws her eyes like a magnet. She blushes. This is foolish. Good looks aside, he's a stranger. Is he with the Resistance? 

She raises one hand towards him, unsure if she should say something.

He catches the movement instantly. 

His full lips lift slightly. "You're all right."

Rey graces him with a dumb smile. She wants to ask him if he's taking her to Leia, wants to ask him if he's seen Han and Finn, but the words get stuck in her throat. What if they're hurt? She couldn't bear receiving bad news.  

He is staring at her intently, almost as if he's waiting for her questions.

_He's so young_ , she remarks to herself, noting the smooth, pale skin. She feels a flush coming on. He's been staring for too long. 

"Do...do I have something on my face?"

He quirks his lips and exhales a chuckle. "No."

"Thanks for carrying me..." she trails off awkwardly, "but I think I might be able to walk."

"Trust me, it's better if you don't. Enjoy the ride while it lasts," he replies humorously, and though she should protest and make him let her down, she's weakened and tired and she's not sure if her mind is right. He's got a point.  _Enjoy the ride while it lasts_. She's been walking and running and walking and running all her life. It's nice to let herself _be_ for a change. 

The last thing she hears before she closes her eyes is, "You have no idea who I am, do you?" 

* * *

 It's her initiative that does it. Her own fault.

She leans into him and rubs her cheek against his robes and _damn it_ , even though he's wearing leather and steel, he can feel it. Either the Order's textiles department is bad at their job, or...

How strong is she? She was _brave_ , at least. No one stands up to Kylo Ren for too long.

And now, his victim is curling up into his robes like a kitten without a home. He remembers his first cat. His father found a stray during one of his scouting missions. That little furry beast is long dead. He grits his teeth when she moves against him again. Now, she has one hand splayed across his chest. Right over his heart. How _fucking_ poetic. 

It feels good to curse. He hasn't done it in a while. General Hux frowns at such displays. Supreme Leader Snoke is even more averse to vulgarity. Phasma's got a sailor mouth, though, but she keeps it to herself. 

Of course, Leia never approved of his language either.

He smiles, either because he's found a new way to spite his mother, or because he's carrying this stupid little bundle. This scavenger girl, a dirty little desert rat.

_Pretty desert rat._

He shakes his head. She's nothing in comparison to the beauties of the Empire and the First Order. Women dressed in the finest silks, adorned with the most luxurious and illustrious pieces of jewelry and design. 

This one smells of sweat and sun, rust and salt. He should hate these scents, and he _does._ He's a city man, through and through. Those disgusting hovels on remote, third-world planets do not entice him at all. Yet, there's something arcane about sand, about skin hardened under the sun. She is barely a girl, and she's made a home in antiquity. 

But she is holding a hand over his heart, so he removes his helmet, gives it to one of the stormtroopers for safe-keeping until they reach the interrogation room.

It's a stroke of luck that she opens her eyes right when he is unmasked. Not one minute later and she might have seen Kylo Ren. 

He shouldn't enjoy her confusion so much. Or the fact that she has _no_ idea who he is. She clearly doesn't remember being knocked out with the Force. People hardly ever do. He tastes her mind gently, prodding slowly so as not to break the spell.

She thinks he's with the Resistance, here to whisk her off her feet and lead her to safety. He smiles, against his better judgement. "You're all right."

But his smile freezes on his lips when he tastes further.

_She's thinking about my hair. Magnetic? My skin is smooth to her...She thinks me young, very young. Handsome. Han Solo. **Fuck.**_

He stops himself before going further. He takes a deep breath.

 "Do...do I have something on my face?" 

Her question disarms him. She's flushing. She's embarrassed. How quaint. He's never had such a simple, yet loaded interaction before. 

He chuckles. He likes how that feels in his chest. Like a soft rumble. "No."

When she asks to be let down, she asks as a friend. She's half-joking, smiling at him like he should know better. He holds her tighter and tells her to enjoy the ride while it lasts. Because once he delivers her to the interrogation room he has to let her go. He has to put the mask back on and do his job. 

"You have no idea who I am, do you?" he asks with mirth. And sadness. 

And sadness. 

* * *

 She remembers. _Oh Gods._ She remembers.

She was knocked out by a powerful, dark cloud. Its shadow ravaged her violently, but it also brought her peace. She could not help but fall unconscious.

_He_ had done that to her. 

She opens her eyes. She can't move. She's not floating anymore. She's being held down by a cold, metal touch. The contraption is designed for terrible things. She can smell the blood already. She shivers and shivers some more, because this is not the desert, it is cold in this room.

Nothing renders her colder, however, than the mask in front of her. He is sitting there patiently. Waiting for her to acknowledge him. 

She lifts her chin defiantly. She won't give him the satisfaction.

She taunts him. 

She may be captured, but she has the hope that Finn and Han are not far behind. They wouldn't abandon her, would they? They're the first family she's ever had.

She lets that thought lift her spirits. 

"I won't reveal anything to you or that awful mask," she says victoriously. 

It's only when he removes the helmet that she realizes her mistake. Her awful mistake. 

"You..."

The young man with the smooth skin and magnetic locks.  The one who carried her through the battle and touched her gently. The embrace in the middle of the night. _Enjoy the ride while it lasts._

"You..."

He smiles in a familiar way. "Me." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! Thank you so much for all your kudos and comments! I think this will be a drabble-per-chapter format, but some chapters will be more connected than others, so as to make it more WIP. Enjoy!


	3. Chapter 3

She skims his wound with her fingers. Gently, so as not to make it worse. She doesn't know, anymore, what hurts or doesn't.  The Force seems to come in and out of her, all at once. And it overwhelms her.

So does his warm gaze. 

"Sorry about this," she murmurs, tracing the red gashes. 

Kylo Ren mouths a silent smile, but he winces when he shifts on the bed. 

"They should heal fast...with the help of the Force, right?" 

He stands on his elbow and looks down at her. "You _really_ need a teacher." His tone is mocking, but gentle. 

"Shut up. The Force works in mysterious ways."

He raises an eyebrow. "Who told you that?"

She can't remember, truly. Someone must have shared that rather mundane piece of wisdom. A cloaked figure with a shaggy beard.

Her fingers move away from his wound and land on his bare chest. There are some old scars scratched into that hardened skin, but she doesn't ask about them. She's focused on the flesh. Her cheeks are flushed. 

"Stop treating me like I'm made of glass," he rasps after several moments.

She looks up at him. "I'm not."

"You are. There'll be other battles. You will give me fresh wounds. So will I."

Rey chews on her lip. "Well, if we're being fair, you've got _far_ more cuts than me -"

He hums, amused and annoyed, and before she can react properly, she is thrown down on the sheets and he is towering over her. 

"Let's fix that, shall we?"

She always marvels at the way he speaks, the odd modulations of his voice. Maybe it's an aftermath of the mask. 

She can't process much else because her heart is beating out of her chest. This is still very new to her. 

"You can try," she replies with a small smile. 

His face betrays nothing, but when he bends down, she sees a dark flicker in his eyes. He pauses over her lips. She is expecting a kiss, almost raising her head for it. Her first kiss. She wonders what it will be like. She may be naive. Because he tips her chin up and his tongue tastes the soft flesh of her neck instead.

After which, he bites. 

* * *

 

Rey screams herself awake. 

It was just a dream.

It was just a _dream_.

She climbs down from her bed and goes to check on Finn. She's not expecting him to have woken up, but she needs that small comfort. Needs to see her wonderful, innocent friend.

She stares at the sleeping figure behind the glass case and shudders. Was it the Dark Side? A trick of the mind? Can he reach her, this far into the galaxy?

She touches her neck, right there. Where she felt his tongue. 

It's pulsing.

* * *

 

She is playing with his hair.

It's absurd how much enjoyment he derives from the simple motion of her fingers. They weave through his locks, sink into the untamed knots, break them free. 

He doesn't close his eyes, although he feels a great desire to sleep like this, entwined with her. His head is resting on her stomach. She is sitting up in his bed. It's most definitely his bed. That is his roughspun comforter. Coarse, but warm. Those are his battered pillows, where his fists have left frustrated indentations over time. 

He doesn't close his eyes because he wants this image captured in his mind. She is looking down at him, smiling with mischief. 

"Your hair is impossible."

That lilting voice of hers, devoid of crime and passion. Her fire is different from his. Not a fire that burns and consumes, but one that purifies swords and blesses altars.

And if so, what is she doing here, fingers dancing over his forehead?

" _You_ are impossible," he replies stupidly. 

Rey laughs. "You're full of it, you know that?"

For a brief, alien moment, Kylo feels shame. An absurd memory, lying dormant for all these years, rises from the ashes.

_"Listen, kid, as my son, you need to know how to talk to the ladies. Here's a free lesson from yours truly. You never flatter a woman unless you **mean** it. Don't sweet talk her with bullshit like, "you're my sun and stars", or "I can't breathe without you". Women can always tell when you're lying. Always."_

His dad would cringe if he saw him now. 

But he has no father. He's got no one.

He brushes her hand aside gently, lifts himself from her hold. 

"Do they hurt?" she asks, looking down at the red gashes on his shoulder. 

"Yes," he says simply. 

"Suppose I owe you one. Though, I doubt you'd be able to nick me."

Oh, that desert talk of hers. His pretty desert rat. Her fire may be pure, but she _chose_ to be here with him.

He grabs her head and pulls her to him, not desperately, not gently. It's a simple motion, like running fingers through hair.

He hears her swallow thickly.

"Desert rat. My desert rat. _Mine_."

He buries his head in her neck and inhales deeply. He feels a hunger like he's never felt before, and one hand has already wound around her waist, pulling her closer. 

He kisses her throat.

And bites. 

* * *

 

Kylo Ren, first Knight of the Order of Ren, wakes up in a cold sweat. His hand clenches instinctively, reaching out for his lightsaber.

He's in the dark, but his eyes adjust to it quickly.

He's still in his room. His wounds still sting when he shifts in bed. There's the roughspun comforter. The battered pillows. He is alone.

He bites his lips, willing the pain to become a distant memory. 

He should be able to control these sensations by now.

But he cannot restrain himself from reaching up and touching his hair. She's been there, the ghost of _her_ fingers.

She. She. She. Rey.

He groans and swallows his hunger, lets it slide down his throat to his belly, where it twists and hisses like a snake. He doesn't dare touch himself. She's already touched him enough. The wounds are singing. 

He hopes for morning. Hopes for the next day and the next. When they will meet again, and he will repay her for these cuts. 

Or she will repay him. 

 


	4. Chapter 4

She looks much more confident, in her stride and garb, when she meets him a second time, but Supreme Leader Snoke's teachings have not failed.

It takes a lot longer to get inside her head. But he does it covertly. He sees her from across the landing strip, getting ready for a fight, and he cheats. He enters her mind when she does not yet know the battle has begun. The Sith does not wait for an opportunity to present itself; he creates it. 

He hopes to see and taste her fear, her doubts, her second-guessing - all the petty human foils that cloud the mind before a confrontation. It's not that he believes her weak, but she has a heart full of light, which means she will question her every move. It's reckless self-torture on her part, and useful leverage for him.

He does taste something that might resemble fear. 

But no. Not quite.

It's excitement...mingled with curiosity. 

Kylo prods further with caution, because Supreme Leader Snoke has taught him never to be complacent. Excitement and curiosity must have a source. 

He closes his eyes for a moment, blocking out the extraneous world so he may enter the recess of her psyche. He has become better at it. He can master all the five senses now, he can even build an image in his head that replicates all of Rey's thoughts. 

So, when the image appears, it knocks him off-balance a little. His nose is tickling. He wants to sneeze.

A _sneeze_ , of all things.

There's too much dust around him, it's making him choke. He has to raise a sleeve to his mouth. Then again, bad idea. Because he's holding onto a long, thin wire with _both_ of his hands. And gradually, he realizes, he's dangling from nothing into nothing. 

His eyes adjust to the semi-obscurity around him. 

He hears a _woosh_ beside him.

He sees a masked creature; a grey, goggle-eyed little rat. He recognizes the skinny legs.   _She_ had the sense to cover her mouth and eyes. 

She slides down the wire with grace and stops in front of a large square. He leans forward - careful not to fall off the wire - and sees that it is a rusty generator, some old model they do not manufacture anymore. She unscrews the cap on the commutator and pushes her fingers inside. He doesn't need the Force to realize what she's doing.

_She's scavenging for spare parts._

Kylo feels the beginning of a smile. Why would she be thinking of scavenging at a time like this? She is about to face her nemesis, all things considered. He may not yet be as powerful as Snoke, but he is the only one that can provide a challenge, can humble and subdue her.

Rey lifts her mask an inch. He can see the tip of her nose and soft lips. Grainy, sun-kissed skin. She brings one of the parts to those lips and darts her tongue out.

At first, he simply stares. The pink tongue is alien and outlandish in this place of darkness and dust. 

After a while, he understands what she's doing. An old smuggler's trick. A dangerous one. She is testing for electric discharge. 

Whatever she finds apparently satisfies her, because she nods and dumps the part in her satchel. 

It happens so fast. One moment, she is retying the satchel to her shoulder, the next, she is slipping off the wire.

Finally, he tastes fear. All at once, he senses her panic. And her anger. She _never_ slips.

But he is there before she can reprimand herself any further. He slides down the wire and lunges for her. He manages to catch her just in time.

He is holding her by the waist up, and her coarse skinny legs rub against his robes. He looks down at the face of a rat, goggles and mask. 

She is panting, breathing heavily against him.

They both hear her satchel slip and fall into the ether.

He raises his hand. He makes sure it does not tremble. He wrenches the goggle and the mask away.

Her face is always surprising to him. It's so small, yet so fierce, larger than life, but forgettable if one were not paying attention. He does. 

She takes a hoarse breath, seems to be choking on the dust. But maybe she is choking on him.

"You shouldn't lick spare parts anymore. One of these days, you'll die of poisoning. And we're not done yet."

Rey's lips form a perfect "o". She doesn't quite know what's happening. This is her head, her thoughts, and yet here's Kylo Ren, holding her up against his body, warning her about metal poisoning.

"What are you doing in my head?!" she screams loudly, and the sound of her shout echoes in the empty chambers of the ship she is plundering.  

He is thrown out, spat out like dirt. Either she wasn't quite prepared for his invasion or she's just now warming up, because her expulsion doesn't hurt. It only stings. He rubs his forehead and smiles. She's walking up to him now, lightsaber out. 

"Those tricks aren't going to help you, Ren! Or don't you remember I can get inside your head too?" she calls out angrily.

He toys with the unlit lightsaber between his fingers. "Do you always picture scavenging hunts or are you just that unimaginative?" 

He doesn't even mean it as a taunt. He's genuinely curious. Is that all that she can recall? Is his desert rat so bereft of experience? He could show her...he could show her so many things, beautiful and horrid and made to be seen. She would never have to be confined to dust. Does she know he could take her across galaxies and galaxies and show her the ends of the universe? He would enjoy the dumbstruck, joyous look on her face whenever a new system appeared in sight, more wondrous than the one before.

"Thanks for the offer, but I'd rather choke on dust." 

Kylo stops playing with his lightsaber. He pushes her out of his mind, but he does it gently. She was only inside his mind because _he_ allowed her to. He brings the lightsaber to life. It's more stable now, less unsure. The angry red tips hardly ever flicker. But his hand is not as confident. It's not that he feels mercy, but he feels waste. Waste at such _excellent_ potential.

Still, the real battle is in the mind, Snoke has taught him that, at least.

And he has the upper hand, for now.

But he is excited and curious, like her. Because he wonders if she will ever dig deep enough in his mind to find...the image. _That_ image, the one he sees before battle. He chuckles to himself. It's _no_ scavenging hunt.

 

She can't seem to _stop_ shuddering. And she can't bring herself to cry, because the shock is too cold, too fresh on her skin.

She is standing in a field of corpses, all strewn about like hapless toys.

General Leia is lying face-up, watching the sky with an absent gaze. One could almost think she is at peace. But the white foam at her lips says otherwise. 

Rey swallows down the bile.

One thing she can say, they all seem to have died quickly. Just a dark hole where the lightsaber pierced through, and then silence. A brutal, clean demise.

Rey turns in circles and gulps air hungrily.

Kylo Ren's head is one horrible, grotesque vision of hell. Probably heaven for him. 

She regrets digging in deeper. He probably wanted her to see this. 

She wants to pull out of his mind, but the last thing she sees, is two living bodies standing next to each other on top of the hill. It's a he and she and they're staring down at the massacre with perfect serenity. She leans forward and puts her head on his shoulder. He pulls her closer and plants a kiss on her forehead. And suddenly, Rey knows they did this _together._

When she is spat out of his head, she heaves and wretches. Her stomach is a mess. Her heart is about to explode. 

Kylo Ren waits, almost out of courtesy, for her to recover her composure. 

And, though it takes her a while, she finally lights her lightsaber. 

But she fights with dread and disgust, because the real battle is in the mind, and she feels the burn of his kiss on her forehead.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your lovely comments, I hope you spend the holidays enjoying more Reylo trash!


	5. Chapter 5

Nar Shaddaa is filthy. The city sprawls to the horizon, and then it seems to swallow that too. You can hardly see the sunset through the thick layers of smog. Some say Jakku is dirty, but sand cleans and purifies.

This is a lost cause. The largest moon of Nal Hutta, but burdened with corruption and crime. 

She does not belong here, and it's clear for everyone on the streets that she is an outsider. She does her best to conceal herself, even going so far as adopting the people's style of clothing. But she screams foreigner. 

This is even further evinced when she steps into The Orange Lady, a bar in the Corellian Sector that is every bit as loud, grimy and intimidating as most of the locales on Nar Shaddaa. 

Rey walks through the doors and heads straight to the restrooms. A show of weakness maybe, but her nerves are completely frayed and she needs some solitude to meditate. She locks herself in a stall and takes deep breaths. She closes her eyes. She pictures the Force all around and feels it at the tip of her fingers.

What's the problem?

This should not be so terrifying. 

Luke has sent her here with a clear purpose. The Knights of Ren have been using Nar Shaddaa as a recruitment base. And two of them are supposed to come tonight to The Orange Lady to trade with an orphanage patron. 

She must intercept them. Defeat them, if she can. But intercept them at all costs.

Luke Skywalker has told her the Force is a way of quiet resilience, but in times like these, when the Resistance requires new energy, the Jedi must harden their training. She knows the story of his ambush on Jabba The Hutt's Palace. He does not say so plainly, but she knows he wants her to follow his path. Use the Force to dissimulate. Enter places you do not belong and make yourself at home.

Easier said than done.

She looks at her colored nails and scoffs. She's never looked so bizarre in her life. Her hair is down, but it looks like the tips have been electrocuted. One of the hairdressers she consulted said it was all the rage. The makeup makes her eyelids itch. But the lipstick is probably the worst part. It's a bit annoying that her first incursion into makeup is so unpleasant. The clothes are another thing. She likes the boots, but can't see the point of their high heels. The corset is stuffy, no matter how much she's loosened it. The pants are too tight. Once again, itchy. She feels alien. 

But she can't just sport her desert garb or the padwan robes, can she?

_Okay. Pick yourself up. You always do._

This mission is only one of many to come. It can't be that bad.

And there's a silver lining; she does not have to face Kylo Ren tonight. He is far away from Nar Shaddaa. Reports confirmed he’s been overlooking the construction of the New Coruscant, a suitable capital for the First Order.

She takes a deep breath, as much as she can with the corset, and exits the restrooms. 

* * *

 

The Orange Lady is far more immense than she imagined.  Firstly, there are several rooms and they all lead into other tiny lodgings and nooks and secret places, perfect for inconspicuous meetings. 

She tries to use the Force to access all these dark corners and illuminate them, but she's already feeling a headache. This place was built for confusion. The fog machine, the blaring lights, the depressing darkness and the dirge-like music. It's hard to focus on anything.

She stumbles into a part of the bar that only seems less crowded because it - well, it's full of interspecies couples. 

At least, that’s what it looks like.

Rey blushes to the tip of her roots.

Most of the pairs are a combination of humanoid plus alien. She recognizes a large Trunsk and a human girl not much older than herself. They are kissing quite passionately. The girl is pecking his tusked mouth with a little too much enthusiasm.

Suddenly, she sees a Vindalian coming her way. His features are vulpine and he almost looks handsome, except his eyes scan her like she's a succulent lump of meat. 

"I haven't seen your pretty face in The Orange Lady before. And I've seen  _everyone."_

Rey forces a smile. "Newcomer."

"Ah. How do you like the place?"

"It's all right. I've seen better."

The Vindalian is so close, he is practically touching her. "Better? I can prove to you that's not the case. Just give me ten minutes."

His hand coils around her waist. But his fingers have a downward trajectory. 

She clutches his arm before he goes too far.

“I’m afraid I don’t have the time.”

“You should _make_ time. My species is uncommonly powerful.”

“I’m sure. But I’m not interested.”

He pulls her closer to him and whispers in her ear. “Impossible.”

She looks deep into his cold eyes and lets the Force guide her into his mind. 

"You will unhand me, walk out of this bar and never return again."

The Vindalian steps away from her. "I will walk out of this bar and never return again."

"Oh, and you will also have more respect for females, in general."

"I will also have more respect for females, in general."

Rey grins. "Wonderful."

When he's finally out of her way, she breathes a sigh of relief. But the relief does not last long. She can finally sense it. The Dark Side of the Force. It's here. They're here.

And they're somewhere close.

She walks on cautiously, moving more in the shadows than without. 

She hides behind a statue of a woman eating oranges. She is large and beautiful and her mouth is full of orange pits. It must have something to do with the bar name. Her attention is drawn to a figure at the other end of the room.

At first she thinks her eyes are deceiving her. She's inhaled too many fumes from this awful, smoky den.

It's almost like looking in a mirror. She almost checks behind her.

But it’s not a vanity glass. It’s _herself_. It’s another Rey, dressed in her regular desert clothes. And she is standing on a small stage, shielded by a partition wall.

Rey blinks, mystified. The girl looks _exactly_ like her. Down to her hairdo and baggy linens. The only thing different about this perfect rendition is the way she moves her body. She's not dancing. But she's leaning against a pole and talking to two masked figures. She recognizes their uniform. They are Knights of Ren.

Rey tries to control her breathing. She's not sure she's got all her wits about her.

Two Knights of Ren are talking to a...a clone of herself in a bar in Nar Shaddaa.

_How?_

She couldn't have been cloned. No, that is quite beyond reason. What other possibility –

Then the other shoe drops.

_A shapeshifter._

The galaxy is full of them. They can cause a lot of mischief, especially in a place rife with crime. But in order for a shapeshifter to take on an identity, they need some kind of visual material, to get an idea of the target they are impersonating.

Rey wonders if her image has been forwarded among the First Order. She shudders to think why.

_Are they hunting me? Trying to track me down? But then…why would they sit here with a shapeshifter?_

She has two options at her disposal; come out of hiding and take the Knights on directly, or create some kind of diversion. The first option is slightly more difficult since she has already spotted various guards sitting at nearby tables. They are trying to pass off as customers, but their vigilance betrays them. It would be suicide.

Second it is. 

* * *

 

She Force-directs one of the waiters to inform the shapeshifter that there's a call for her at the bar. She waits with bated breath and hopes that her plan doesn't backfire.

The girl slides off the stage. Rey can hear her paying her excuses to the Knights. She follows the waiter, unconcerned.

Rey feels that warm glow of satisfaction she gets every time she manipulates the Force in her favor. The shapeshifter is walking towards her now. Rey comes out of the shadows and quickly attacks her mind. The girl only has time to gasp before her conscience flickers out and she faints. Rey grabs her swiftly and drags her behind the statue.

She remembers, with perfect clarity, that this is exactly what Kylo Ren did to her. She looks at her clone-self and can't help a grimace. Desert Rey looks small, but fierce and true. She looks more genuine than the real Rey, anyway. She feels a stab of shame, but she does not dwell on it too long. She’s grown up these past few months. She has left Jakku behind. She needs to do her job.

She waits for a couple of minutes, and then she walks out of hiding, straight towards the Knights of Ren.

* * *

 

"Sorry to keep you waiting. Busy night." 

She doesn't know if this is the right thing to say or not. She's never done this before.  _Obviously._  But she goes with her gut. Luke has told her intuition is sometimes more valuable than reason.

She hops onto the stage and tries to pretend she's always danced for strangers. How hard can it be?

_Very._

She grabs the pole and circles it aimlessly. She doesn't know what to do with her feet. She's trying to imitate the lethargic rhythm of her clone, but she feels utterly stupid.

"You changed your clothes and hair," one of the Knights speaks, and his voice is so warped by the mask he's wearing that she has to make an effort to understand.

"Yes, well, my manager doesn’t like those desert rags. Says it makes other customers uncomfortable," she explains, trying to sound nonchalant. She wonders if the Force can boost her lying skills. 

"He doesn’t like it, does he?" His voice is low and threatening and she panics when she sees him move in his chair. He's going to get up and check. Probably punish the manager for defying a Knight of Ren.

"I'd have to agree with him,” she speaks quickly. “This looks better on Rey. Sorry, on  _“me”._  Don't you think so?"

She hopes her tone is flirty.   _Should_  it be flirty? Was the shapeshifter flirty? Possibly. She knows she can't act like herself, because she's pretty sure her clone didn't. 

Both Knights stay silent. They simply watch her. She feels watched anyway, even if she can't see their eyes. 

“Come on, don’t I look nice?” she insists anxiously. She forces a provocative smile.

The one who asked about her change of clothing leans forward a bit and nods his head. “It does suit you.”

_Thank the Gods._

The music is sultry, a combination of soft moans and languid beats. She feels just as awkward, leaning against the pole with nothing to do. So she lowers herself carefully and sits down on her knees. But this, she realizes, looks too much like a meditation stance. So she pulls her legs from underneath her and dangles them over the stage.

Rey wants to kick herself internally. Now she looks like a little kid, swinging her legs on a big chair.

She puts her hands behind her back and leans on her elbows.

There. This should look more…mature?  Inviting?

No, she just looks ridiculous. She sits up straight again. Her chest is flowing out of her corset and she can barely breathe.

“So, where did we leave off?” she asks, running a sweaty hand through her hair.

“You were telling us what you think about the Dark Side,” the same Knight replies levelly.

Rey can feel the sweat pooling above her lips. She licks them, for something to do. The silence is becoming uncomfortable.

“I think it’s powerful,” she says, going with her instincts again.

“And?” the Knight presses on.

“And dangerous.”

“Why?”

“Because…because it can seduce you easily.”

“How does it seduce you?”

Rey stumbles. She looks down at her hands. She must not fidget. She must act like she doesn’t care.

“It gives me what I want.”

“Which is?”

_Good question._ What does she want?  Family? Recognition? Power? All of that? Nothing?

She smiles to herself a little. “I don’t know yet. That’s what I expect the Dark Side will show me.”

The next words startle her.

“Leave us.”

They come from the second Knight, the one who has been silent all this time. At first she thinks he is addressing her. But no, he is talking to the first Knight.

“I said leave us.”

And to her surprise, the first Knight obeys without a single word. He gets up and walks away, just like that. He is quickly swallowed by the crowds and the smoke, but Rey looks after him for a long time. She feels compelled to follow him. What if he’s off to meet the orphanage patron? But something tells her leaving the second Knight alone is not a good idea either.

She is sitting on needles, anxiously awaiting her opponent’s next move.

Should she take out her lightsaber? Should she wait?

“Er, should we continue?” she asks, twirling one strand of hair ineptly between her fingers.

But he isn’t saying anything. He’s a quiet one. He seems content just watching her.

“About the Dark Side?” she eggs him on.

He remains silent.

She might as well dive right into it. She’s sure she won’t get out of this bar unscathed.

"You must have seduced _so_ many to the Dark Side. Do they all become Knights, like you?" 

He, again, remains as still as the statue of the lady eating oranges.

“Are they all as quiet as you too? Do they take a vow of silence?”

He does not budge.

She wracks her brains for a way to allude to their purpose here tonight. But how to bring orphans into the mix without giving herself away? 

Finally, he cocks his head to the side and lifts one finger towards her. He is beckoning her closer.

Rey licks her lips nervously. The lightsaber is warm against her stomach. The corset is good for that at least. 

She leans forward. Her chest heaves like she's run a mile. She tries to control her breathing. She can see the craters in his mask. 

“I’d like you to shift into a Ruurian.”

Rey freezes in her high-heeled boots.  _No._

A Ruurian is a large insectoid. There is no chance of her impersonating _that._

“I said shift into a Ruurian.”

_The jig is up._

He will soon realize she’s not a shapeshifter. She looks above his helmet. She can already see the guards shifting in their seats, heads turning in her direction. They’re all brandishing weapons at the waist.

“The manager will not like it,” she says, stammering slightly. “But, just to be sure, let me go check with him.”

She hops off the stage, but she is not quick enough. He grabs her ankle and suddenly, she is flying through the air. 

* * *

 

She remembers what Luke told her. Minimize the conflict, if you can. Avoid civilian casualties at all costs. Do not give into warring, like _they_ do. The Dark Side expects and invites violence.

She must stand pure as a shield.

But her lightsaber has a mind of its own. 

* * *

 

“You should wear your hair down more often,” he murmurs against her ear.

His tone is mocking, but the strangled quality of his voice makes it sound like a compliment.

Her face is crushed against the wall. His fingers are lodged in that very hair, tugging hard, making her scalp burn. 

He’s overpowered her solely because he has the advantage of numbers. But she’s knocked out enough of his guards to feel like her training hasn’t been for nothing.

Unfortunately, he has been training too. She can’t seem to get past his mental shields.

“I knew it was you from the start,” he rasps into her neck.

Rey pushes against him futilely. “I knew it was you too.”

It’s only half a lie. She  _suspected_ there was something off about the silent Knight. Luke told her to go with her instincts. But Kylo Ren has a way of twisting her gut impulses.

“You were supposed to be on New Coruscant. What are you doing here?” she asks, trying to distract him. Her best hope is to overpower his mind, because his body is pulsing with destructive energy. 

“You shouldn’t trust every word you hear. Are all desert rats gullible?”

She seethes and struggles against his hold. But this is what he wants, to make her angry, make her lose her head.

“You seemed to _like_ looking at this desert rat. Why else did you have that shapeshifter pretend to be me?” she throws back.

“I was getting to know my enemy.”

She scoffs. “I’m sure.”

His grip on her hair tightens and his mouth is now lined with her jaw.

“You know what I found out?”

“Enlighten me,” she retorts.

“Your curiosity. It always gets the better of you. You can’t help it.”

His lips are cold. She wrenches her head away. Did he plan it, then? He must have known she was coming here, so he planted that shapeshifter to confuse her… _No, no, he’s just playing with you. Don’t listen to him._

“It betrays you.” His uneven voice slithers across her skin. “That thirst.”

“I’m not thirs–”

“You will be. Until you join me.”

The last statement sounds like a question. She wishes she could say _never._ But she’s trapped against the wall and Kylo Ren.

And she is waiting for him to make a mistake. He always does, when she’s around.

He always wants her to come with him. 

* * *

 

There are rumors in the street.

There was a fight at the Orange Lady. Not your common drunken brawl. Lightsabers and Knights and Jedi. Mythologies whispered, but not forgotten.

People say they saw a girl run out into the smoky night. And a dark figure followed her.

And he swallowed her.

Or she swallowed him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of the references to places and species are taken from the EU. Thanks for all your kudos and comments. Onward on this ship of trash!


End file.
